I'm With You
by C.K. degu
Summary: Formerly 'Love Heals'. Mimi's gone, and maybe its time Roger let someone in again. RogerOC, Reviews appreciated! now complete!
1. Chapter 1

Love Heals

Chapter One: To Die Would Be A Great Adventure

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time. Mark Twain

Mark and Collins tried not to make a sound as they entered the flat they shared with Roger. Silence and being as invisible as possible was key; especially today. Seeing that Roger was no where to be found in the living room, Collins knocked gently at Roger's door to see if he was there.

"Roger, are you there? Mark and I are back, in case you need anything."

When there was no answer, Collins retreated to his room. Mark decided to sit alone on the battered old couch with his camera in his hands. He didn't know why he had brought it along with him, seeing as it was a funeral, but he had, and he could barely keep it steady.

"How did we get here," he muttered to himself, putting the camera aside, taking off his moldy jacket and tie before sighing deeply. The tears he had cried earlier stung yet again as they tempted to fall. There was no rainfall to fit his mood.

'Why am I the witness? And when I capture it on film, will it mean that it's the end...and I'm alone?'

Mark turned his head to the steel kitchen table, where Mimi almost died a year ago. Has it been that long already? She must have been so strong to live for another year.

"Pan to Roger's room," he said, leaving the quiet loft.

o0o0o0o

It was staring at him, like a death sentence. The seemingly harmless, but very crumpled piece of paper was just...lying there, on Roger's dresser. It scared him as much as it made him want to cry even more. Written in April's hand writing were the words, 'we have AIDS.'

All over the room, all tossed haphazardly and seemingly carelessly, were Mimi's clothes; all moved from her place downstairs to Roger's room as a solution to their small problem of Mimi being late to school and to work at the Cat Scratch Club as a waitress. Roger had made her quit, although she barely objected.

Roger knew very well that he had to get out of his room. There were just too many memories of Mimi and too many thoughts of her. She just died a few days ago, she was buried today, and here he was, in his crap room in the flat with no heat or electricity and he was crying. Crying his eyes out for the woman he loved, who died of the same disease he had been dying of for about three years now. Why Mimi? She had taken such good care of herself after that wake-up call from Angel, giving up her vices and her dancing. She dealt with her disease, living every day as her last, as she had told Roger. She handled it much better than April had, that was for sure.

We have AIDS. Who doesn't?

Rolling over in his bed, where he had been lying for the past few days, Roger felt something under his old pillow, rather, Mimi's pillow. She had taken it as hers when she first slept over and refused to let Roger have it. Until now. Shoving his shaky hand under the pillow, he felt something, a piece of paper. Roger pulled it out and stared at it for eternity, his tears

blocking his vision, until he finally saw what it was.

It had taken Roger a whole year to write his single song of glory, and it had been Mimi who had inspired it in him. But the truth was, he had only sung it to her twice in her

lifetime, the first time had been when she was near dying on his kitchen table, and the second time being just a few days go, on the day that Mimi died in her bed downstairs. She had known she was dying, she was ready, and her last request from Roger was that he sing 'Your Eyes' to her one last time. At first he had refused, saying that he would only be signing her death contract, but eventually he did, and she died soon after. And now, on the day she was buried, Roger discovered a piece of paper under Mimi's pillow, in her handwriting. She was trying to write the lyrics of the song in the time she had heard it. There were a few blanks and a couple of wrong words, but Mimi pretty much got it right. His heart ached for her even more, and Roger buried his face into her pillow, crying for the woman he loved, wishing he could have held onto her longer than he had.

o0o0o0o

Three weeks and one year later, in the apartment below Mimi's, a dirt-broke artist smiled to herself, placing her latest and only purchase on her coffee table. Opening the windows to bring in the harsh, cold New York air, she sat on her couch to open the paper bag. Her big, dark brown eyes were practically sparkling at the sight of the object in her hands. She was too excited and was just about to rip the wrapped box open when the phone rang. Sighing, she answered the phone, pulling her straight black hair into a bun with a pen.

"Hello?" she asked in a bored voice.

"Is that anyway to greet your favorite person in the world? Come on, P, you can do better than that," came Maureen's voice on the other end, sounding happier than she did. Peyton Sanders laughed and answered in a more cheery voice, "Alright. Hello Maureen! How goes your days with my ex-, not to mention very last, girlfriend, Joanne?"

"Ha! That's better! Anyway, we were going to see a movie, and we wanted to know if you wanted to come with us," Maureen said casually, ignoring the sarcasm in Carla's voice.

"Maureen, you know I'm dirt broke. Struggling artist, remember?" she asked, looking over at her latest masterpiece almost haunting her in the corner of her spacious living room. A blank canvas hung on an easel, old paints and oils arranged neatly on the otherwise dirty corner.

"So what? Joanne's gonna pay for it anyway, right pookie?"

On her side of the conversation, Peyton could hear Joanne attempting to protest to what Maureen just said and she laughed. And without her consent, Maureen declared that she and Joanne would be coming over to pick her up. And after she hung up, Peyton went back to her brand new shoe box. She was just about to open it when again, something interrupted her. A song. A very sad song, in fact that was in no way familiar to her. It was nevertheless beautiful and so sad that it made Peyton actually feel like she was drowning in someone else's, a stranger's tears. She looked over at her blank canvas again.

"Is it possible to paint a song that amazing?" she said to herself, sighing and hating the fact that her canvas was still blank. It was strange that she was so drawn to the singer and his song right now. If only she knew where the music was coming from.

o0o0o0o

"You were the song all along, and before the song dies...I should...tell. Crap," Roger said as he hit another sour note. He was losing it, and he felt like he was losing Mimi all over again. There was no way he was going to allow that to happen. He attempted to play again, but he found his fingers were shaking at the memory of her dying in his arms, and his guitar started to sound like it was out of tune. He was about to put it aside when he heard someone speak from his balcony and open window, where Mimi had perched herself to seduce him.

"Don't stop."

Roger looked up, surprised at the vision of the woman in his fire escape. A slight breeze had come in, causing her black hair to blow gently to her shoulder blades. Her brown eyes were

inquisitive and curious. Her curvy body was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a tight black tank top and a denim skirt. Strangely, she was barefoot.

'Mimi?' Roger almost said out loud, but then realized it was someone else. A total stranger.

"Who are you?" he asked her. She blinked, as if she had just realized that she was standing on someone else's fire escape, and looked at Roger.

"Peyton. I'm sorry, I...I mean...your song was..." Peyton realized she was just blabbering, and she stopped talking, just looking at the source of the song that had her entranced. He was handsome, his face an image of sadness and grief. He looked a little uncomfortable.

"You just climbed up...Mimi's fire escape to get here?" Roger asked her.

"Yes, I did," she said, entering the loft without Roger's consent. He was sitting on the kitchen table, looking at her, as if trying to decide whether she was an angel or the devil itself, "I climbed up mine too."

"You live here?" Roger asked, putting the guitar aside for a moment to watch as she looked around, as if knowing that his eyes were following her.

"Just below Mimi's place. She told me to climb up her fire escape every time I wanted," she said, smiling fondly and a bit sadly at the memory of the girl upstairs. They weren't that close, but she knew Mimi well enough to have protested someone taking her apartment upstairs too soon.

Then the two remained in silence at the thought of the Cat Scratch Dancer from downstairs. For the first time, Roger looked away from Peyton, and she looked at the floor.

"How did you know her?" They both asked each other at the same time. Peyton gave a small smile.

"I ran out of sugar. You?" she asked him, sitting on the couch.

"I lit her candle," he replied, like it was nothing. Roger shifted uncomfortably from his position on the table. Peyton was crossing her legs.

"I'm Roger, by the way."

"Tell me about the song you were singing," she said softly to him, cupping her chin in her hands and looking at him.

"It's nothing," he said, Just a song for the woman I loved. But I can't keep playing because you walked in.

Then she stood up and walked over to his guitar, picking it up and walking to the fire escape, playing it with a bit of difficulty. Roger kept watching her attempt to play his song, but in vain. She wasn't much of a guitarist. He followed her, standing at the entrance to the fire escape. Peyton looked up and saw him looking at her. She gave an apologetic smile and put the guitar back just as Roger was reaching for it. Their hands touched, and he saw her blush, and his chest tightened when he realized that her beautiful face was very close to his. And, he found himself unable to move, especially when she raised her head up to kiss him.

A strange feeling washed over Roger as their lips touched for the first time. It was almost electric. But Mimi's eyes, her smile, immediatley flashed in his mind, and he pulled away. He could see the shock in her own eyes as he did. Then he pulled away from her completely, taking his guitar with him.

"Who do you think you are, just coming here?" He asked her angrily, making her blink in surprise.

"Roger, it was just a kiss. Maybe it meant nothing to you-"

"It didn't mean just nothing to me. Just go. Back down Mimi's fire escape, back to where things were," he said, practically pushing her. Peyton managed to jerk her hand from his grip.

"A kiss means something to me. When I heard you singing that song, I knew I had to come here. This isn't just nothing!"

"Take your kiss and come another day. Not today, Peyton," said Roger, his voice loud and resonating.

End Chapter

Constructive criticism very much appreciated. )


	2. Chapter 2

Love Heals

Chapter Two: Dancing In The Moonlight

o0o0o0o0o

Unbeknownst to them, downstairs, Mimi and Joanne had just arrived to pick Peyton up for the movies. It was then that they saw Mark coming with his camera. They were just about to greet him when they heard the argument from upstairs in the form of Peyton and Roger.

"Then tell me it meant nothing to you, Roger! Say it to my face and I won't come back. I won't have any regrets. Your downstairs neighbor told me that. Say it to my face Roger, Tell me it means nothing to you!" Peyton yelled at him.

"Just go, Peyton! You don't want this!" Roger yelled back, his fury lashing out with his words as Maureen, Joanne and Mark watched from below.

"Either take that leap or tell me it meant nothing to you," Peyton answered in a calmer voice, "no day but today."

Mimi's words in Peyton's mouth had made Roger's throat suddenly go dry. He was never going to let anyone in, not as long as he wasn't in Mimi's arms. He wasn't going to let her go, not like he had with April. He was never going to forget her.

"Just go."

Roger's chest tightened again, although not in a good way, as a look of hurt crossed Peyton's face and she went downstairs, back to her apartment and back to the way things were. There was nothing left but regret in Roger now. Going back inside, he placed his guitar neatly on the table and sat down. Pretty soon, Mark came upstairs, almost embarrassed to see Roger.

He must have heard us, Roger thought, I didn't think we were that loud.

"Uh...about what just happened..." Mark started to say, but Roger cut him off.

"Forget it ever happened."

"When are you going to let someone else in?" Mark asked him, "You already know you can't stay in here forever."

"Then why are you telling me? Fuck off, Cohen."

When Roger started to use his last name, Mark knew it only meant he was really angry, so he dropped the subject and went into his room, not before putting away his camera and his scarf.

"Maybe you should think about how she felt when you pushed her away."

o0o0o0o

The loft was quiet when Joanne and Maureen let themselves in. Sunlight was streaming through the windows, and the whole place was seemingly alight in the fiery glow of the sun. But everything was deathly quiet.

"Carls?" Joanne asked cautiously, "Are you there?"

The two sighed inwardly when they heard her voice reply from the bathroom, "I'm in here."

Peyton emerged from the bathroom, wearing makeup, a totally different outfit and shoes this time. For an artist, was very creative when it came to her clothes. Just a plain white shirt under an emerald dress with a neckline that plunged too low for her taste, and a leather belt around her waist. A few bead necklaces adorned her neck, and she was wearing flip-flops so near to winter.

"Have you opened the box I gave you this morning?" Joanne asked Peyton, who shook her head and pointed to her coffee table, where the shoebox lay unwrapped but unopened.

"What is it?" Maureen asked Joanne, a little surprised she hadn't told her about this. Pretending not to notice the look on Maureen's face, Joanne answered, "Mimi gave it to me to give to Peyton on her next birthday, but I forgot, so I only gave it today."

"Yeah, five months later," Maureen muttered, rolling her eyes inwardly before she turned to Peyton.

"So...uh..you want to talk about it?" she asked the artist, whose face was seemingly blank.

"About what?" she asked the two, who only looked at her like she was a liar. Joanne cocked her head toward Peyton's studio corner, where there was a panting halfway done looking back at them. It was a silhouette of a mystery rock star, singing, with a broken red heart on his chest. He was surrounded in a sea of blues and greens, and a pair of eyes were hidden in the sea were halfway done.

"Oh...that. Not really. It's just a guy anyway," Peyton said, quickly covering the painting with a black sheet, trying to ignore the looks Maureen and Joanne were giving each other.

"I'm going downstairs," Peyton declared, grabbing a black trench coat before leaving her own place. Maureen and Joanne looked at each other.

"What do you think, Pookie?" Maureen asked Joanne, who gave a nod.

"Roger just inspired the dirt broke artist into making a masterpiece."

o0o0o0o0o

A couple of days after the incident on Roger's fire escape, Peyton had decided to walk home by herself after going out with some friends. She wasn't that far from the apartment when she heard a voice call her name. She almost jumped when the unfamiliar voice got nearer and grabbed her shoulder.

"Who the hell are you and why are you following me?" Peyton snapped at the innocent face of Mark, who was almost surprised to hear her words coming form her mouth.

"Sorry, I...I didn't...I mean...I'm Mark, Roger's roommate?" he said nervously, giving her his hand for a brisk shake.

"I'm guessing you saw what happened," Peyton muttered as they walked towards the apartment together.

"I was with Maureen and Joanne, so yeah, pretty much," Mark replied, and he smiled when Peyton gave a small laugh.

"Is Roger really like that?" Peyton asked curiously. Mark shook his head.

"He's better when you get to know him. He's just had trouble letting people in, especially after Mimi."

"So that was true? I mean, Mimi and Roger were really-"

"In love? Yeah. I guess you understand now why he pushed you away," Mark said, and stammered once Peyton gave him a strange look, "N-not like I'm saying what he did was right. I mean, of course it was wrong, I'm just saying-"

"Cut Roger a little slack for being an ass, yeah, I think I get it," said Peyton, shoving her hands in her jeans pockets. Eventually she and Mark got back to the apartment. Peyton paused at the floor below Mimi's and looked up, sighing.

"Well, this is me," she said, "it was nice talking to you, Mark."

"Nice to talk to you too, Peyton. Oh, and Maureen wanted to remind you about Joanne's surprise party at the Life Cafe," Mark called after her, as he was already halfway up the steps, and she was at her door. Peyton only smiled and gave a nod.

"No way would I forget. I'll see you there, Mark."

"Yeah. See ya."

o0o0o0o0

The night before Joanne's party, Roger was along in the loft again. Mark and Collins had stopped persuading him to leave the house, they already knew there was no point in forcing him to do the thing he didn't want. So there he was again, sitting in the dark, alone with his guitar and the candle without a light. A soft breeze entered the room, and Roger could swear he heard a voice singing to him. Mimi.

"I should tell you...I love you..."

"God Mimi," Roger said to himself, as if gasping out to call her. He felt tears sting at the back of his eyes yet again, and he didn't want to move. She was everywhere, the memories of her have lingered for the past year. Every night he lay awake in bed, wishing that she would come to him, even just for one night. He had tried to be happy, he had tried to start again, but he couldn't let her go. There was no letting go of the woman he loved until this very day. Roger ignored the tears that were falling from his eyes.

"The name is Peyton," said the familiar voice. Roger looked below him at his place at the fire escape and saw her sitting there with a mere candle, a sketchpad, some charcoal and a cigarette. She was sitting so comfortably at Mimi's fire escape that you would think it was hers. But it wasn't. She had no right to be there.

"Are you always this creepy?" he asked her, sounding a bit angry, wishing she didn't hear him cry.

"I live downstairs. I like clearing my head out here."

"That's not your fire escape. With a candle?"

"Benny cut my power. You sound like a girl, by the way."

"When I sing?" Roger asked curiously, wondering where she was taking this.

"When you cry, you dumbass," she said in a very annoyed voice, drawing some more. That made Roger snap. He charged down the fire escape, nearly blowing out Peyton's candle. She looked up at him icily before looking back down at her work. Without warning, Roger blew out her candle, grabbed her arm and pulled her up and inside Mimi's place, where everything, except her clothes were still intact. He dragged her to the couch.

"This is where she first said that she loved me. And I said it right back at her without regretting it!"

With his grip still firm on Peyton, he brought her upstairs to his own loft and brought her to the kitchen table.

"This is where she almost died on Christmas Eve, where I first sang her the song you love so damn much, and where she CAME BACK."

He then pulled her to the doorway.

"This is where she knocked and asked me to light her candle, and the place where I first started falling in love with her."

And finally, he opened his bedroom door with his hand still gripped on Peyton's arm. Tears were threatening to spill again. His bedroom was a mess, with Mimi's clothes now neatly stacked to in the side, and his own spread across the dingy room.

"And this...this is where I first made love to her, and when I realized that she meant much more to me than anything else in the world. This is where she came after the hospital told us that she was going to die. This is the place where I sang to her one last time, knowing that she will never come back to me. This is where she said she loved me for one...last time. She's everywhere and everything to me, and it hurts so much to have to say goodbye to the woman I have so deeply loved. She's everywhere to me, and as long as I stay in this loft, she WILL be with me. Think about that the next time you call me a girl for crying."

Peyton could feel her lips trembling when she saw Roger's tear-stained face and angry eyes. She suddenly felt so guilty for being mad at him earlier, and for insulting him out on the fire escapes. There were just times when she couldn't help but snap at the person right in front of her, especially when she felt hate towards that person. Honestly, Peyton had never been so scared and guilty in her life. And all because of the way Roger had gripped her hand and pulled her.

Meanwhile, Roger could feel a sense of relief pour out of him. He had tried to keep it all to himself, but this time, he couldn't just hold it in anymore. He was a bit thankful to Peyton for provoking him to open up like this, but he got scared. Scared of the way her eyes looked at him as if Roger was going to eat her alive. The way her lip slightly trembled, and her hands shook just a little bit. He didn't like the fact that he had just scared this woman shitless.

"I...I'm sorry," said Peyton, leaving at once and running back to her flat, leaving her sketchpad accidentally on the loft floor. Roger picked it up and saw what she was working on that evening in Mimi's fire escape. She was drawing her upstairs neighbor out of her own memory, trying to being her back without actually bringing her back.

'You must have been some angel, touching lives like that,' she had written in the bottom of the page, below Mimi's smiling face. Roger let the pad slip form his hands as he allowed himself to sob, all the emotion he had let out to Peyton combining with seeing Mimi's face again on a sheet of paper simply making him too weak to stand.

Or maybe it was because he had forgotten to take his AZT. Again.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The following night, the night of Joanne's birthday party at the Life Cafe, Mark emerged from the bathroom and realized that they were late. Collins was already dressed and ready to go, but Roger was nowhere to be found.

"Rog? We're done over here," said Collins walking into Roger's room, where he was sitting in bed in his sweats, looking out the window. He barely looked at his two roommates.

"So, are you coming or what, man?" Collins asked the rocker, who shook his head.

"You guys go ahead. I..I'll catch up," he told them, knowing fully well that his roommates would know him enough to leave him alone. But they just stood there, looking like they both knew something Roger didn't.

"What is it?" he asked them irritably. He hated it when people thought he was incompetent in taking care of himself. He had gotten by quite well without anyone's help.

"Well, we were just wondering...Don't get mad Roger, but-" Mark started to say, but Collins cut him off.

"We were just worried that you may have started using again," he said, pausing so that Roger could process what he had just said, "are you?"

Again, Roger's temper flared and he lashed out at his roommates with such an angry force that it made them step back just a little bit.

"How dare you guys think that? I couldn't do that to Mimi or myself! God, just fuck off! Go to Joanne's thing, and don't wait for me," he said, getting up and slamming the door in their faces for even insinuating that he had started using again. Mark looked at Collins, who didn't look as surprised as he was.

"Now what do we do?" he asked the anarchist, who only sighed.

"Go the party, get wasted and hope he comes," Collins said, leaving the loft, with Mark and his camera in tow.

o0o0o0o

"Zoom in on Peyton Sawyer, a reformed lesbian, compliments of the birthday girl. Notice how pretty she looks in her outfit," said Mark, pointing his camera at the girl in question as she only laughed, waving her drink in his face. God was it fun to be twenty-one.

"Mark, you're a suck-up," Joanne said to him from nearby, as she wore the pretty gold crown Maureen made her put on.

"Jo's right. Enough sucking up to me, time to suck up to the birthday girl!" Peyton said, pushing the cameraman in the direction of the lawyer, who only laughed and crossed her eyes at the thing. Mark was doing his zoom in narration. Not far away, Collins was getting a good deal drunk, laughing at nothing in particular and muttering to himself about something or other.

Maureen was already all over the place and a good three drinks ahead of anybody else, dancing on the tables, trying to strip dance in front of Joanne, who only laughed it off before pulling her back beside her. Mark wasn't drunk at all, wanting to capture every moment with his camera. Peyton was sitting along in a booth, drawing on the napkins with a pen she had found in her back pocket, talking to her drink.

As all this occurred, Joanne had to smile. One year older, and still she was considered the mother of the group, taking care of each and every one of her friends like they were her own children. Angel used to have that role, until she and Mimi took over. But now, she couldn't help but feel a little alone in the cafe dull of drunk bohemians. It was almost funny. But she loved it anyway, taking care of her friends. It was her way of paying them back for accepting her as who she really was. Even back when she and Peyton had been together for that short time, her friends (Maureen had been one of them) had made them feel secure, like it was actually okay. Peyton, Mark and everyone else had done the same for her and Maureen.

"Kiss pookie," Maureen said in her lustiest drunken voice, "Happy birthday!"

Joanne pecked her honeybear on the lips quickly, and just as they had done that, the door opened, signaling Roger's arrival. Everyone looked at him for a second before pretending like he did not just come in. He at once made a beeline for Joanne.

"Hey," he said to her, "great idea, getting everyone drunk. Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Roger," said Joanne with a smile. At the corner of her eye, she spotted Peyton still talking to her drink all lonely in that corner. Roger followed her gaze and saw her too.

"Consider it your birthday present to me," said Joanne, adjusting her plastic crown, "Go on, talk to her."

Sighing, Roger only took of his jacket and stood beside her booth, leaning against the wall with a small smirk on his face upon seeing her. She didn't seem to know that he was there, because she was still talking to her beer.

"SSShh!" Peyton was telling her drink, giggling, "You're not supposed to tell anyone okay? Roger's really hot when he gets mad. But he scared me a little too."

She suddenly laughed out loud, nearly making Roger jump back in surprise. You would think her beer had just told a joke.

"I know, right? You know...It's so weird. I know he's greiving and all...and it's not fair to...Mimi," she said, saying Mimi's name in such a low whisper that Roger almost didn't hear, "but...I think I like Roger. Don't tell him! Shh!! Especially now, because I'm wearing the boots Mimi gave me."

Peyton laughed again, causing the tissue she was drawing on to fall to the floor. Roger picked it up and studied it, unable to help but smile a little, for the first time in a very long time. She had made a little sketch of Joanne with her crown, the lines all wonky and strange because she had drawn it drunk.

"AAAlrighty. Time to get home," said Peyton, giggling like a sixth grader as she stood up, or at least, tried. He barely had control of her feet, and she stumbled, Roger catching her just in time before her head hit the floor of the Life Cafe.

"Why, hellooooo there, Roger!" Peyton said, giggling again. Then she was struck with a thought. So stricken was she that she gestured him to come closer so she could whisper in his ear.

"Your name rhymes with kitty. Like the cat."

Then she laughed and purred. Roger gave her a strange look.

"You're drunk," he said, "I'm taking you home."

She laughed even louder when Roger picked her up like a child, carrying her by her legs and her back as if she were his bride. Peyton lay her head on his shoulder, singing softly to herself.

"You smell like mmmmm...mmmwatermelons."

Peyton had giggled all the way back to the loft, and at one point, singing "Moonriver" at the sight of the full moon out on the street, sometimes prompting Roger to sing along when she forgot the lyrics. But the thing that gor to Roger tonight was the fact that Peyton couldn't seem to stop giggling and laughing at everything and nothing. That, and the way she glowed in the moonlight.

Since she had locked her apartment door before she left that night, Roger had no choice but to take her to his loft upstairs, opting to let her use his bed instead of the couch. She was already half-asleep. He was just about to take off her slightly muddy boots, when Peyton suddenly sat up and gave a shout, her eyes dead set on Roger's confused face.

"NO! Hand off the boots!! They're my very first pair! Mimi got 'em for my birthday..."she said, her voice trailing off a little, "got that?!"

"Yeah, I got it," said Roger, placing them gently on the floor before giving a hard look at the boots. They were familiar.

It had been about five months ago, a few days after New Year's, and Mimi had insisted that she and Roger go shopping. Though Roger protested, she had made him go, promising that she wasn't going to ask him to buy anything.

"There's just one thing I really, really need to get and then we're outta here, okay?" she begged him, pulling his sleeve and dragging him through the mall. Roger had found himself unable to resist her big brown eyes and relented, allowing her to take him to a fancy shoe store in the top floor.

"Mimi, are you sure you can even afford to breathe in this place?" Roger asked her, trying to avoid the saleslady who was giving him a scary look. Mimi only smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Relax baby, I know exactly what to get."

Roger saw her eyeing a pair of tan boots in the middle of the room, and he tired to imagine Mimi in them.

He had no idea that it was actually for someone else.

From the boots, Roger looked back at the figure lying on the bed, sound asleep on his pillow. She had huddled up to one side, facing the other. The blanket was pulled all the way to her chin, like a child protecting itself from the boogeyman. Seeing that Mimi's pillow was the only one available, Roger made his way to the living room, ready to sleep on the couch, when he saw both Mo and Jo passed out on it. The two were sleeping like angels, so Roger just let them be, turning to his only option: sliding into the empty space next to Peyton and sleep.

Trying his best not to wake her, Roger went back into his room and started to climb into his bed. But the old mattress gave a lurch, and Peyton opened her eyes slightly.

"Goodnight, Roger," she said with a small smile, placing a long, juicy and electric kiss on his lips before fully closing her eyes back to sleep. But this time, Roger didn't really mind. He only smiled at Peyton, and without really intending to, placed a soft kiss on her cheek before falling asleep himself.

o0o0o0o0


	3. Chapter 3

It's still the same story, just a different title.

The song belongs to a local band, Freestyle, I think.

I'm With You

Chapter Three: So Slow

The following morning, Mark stepped into the living room, finding a surprisingly awake Joanne already making breakfast with Collins, the mean chef among the group. Maureen was lying on the couch with an icepack over her face, the hangover apparently hitting her hard.

"Morning guys, birthday girl," Mark said in a monotone and a weak smile. He was still wearing the clothes he had slept in last night.

"Try not to talk so loud, okay, Markie?" Maureen said from her place at the couch. Mark went over to Joanne and Collins, who was making a very delicious-looking omelet.

"So, I notice Roger didn't show last night, but he isn't here," Mark commented, bringing out the paper plates and the plastic utensils.

"He was there last night, boy, didn't you see him?" Collins asked, as Joanne made coffee and nodded.

"I made him go talk to Peyton as a birthday gift."

Before Mark could say anything, they head a crash come from Roger's room, causing Maureen to bolt upright at the sound and moan in pain. Then there was screaming.

"Get me outta here," she moaned, sinking back into the couch as Joanne chuckled a bit. Collins finished up breakfast and told Mark to see it everything was okay. Mark moved cautiously to Roger's door. He could have sworn he heard a familiar voice arguing with Roger.

o0o0o0o0

"You bring me here to sleep in your bed and you won't even tell me what is going on with you?" He heard Peyton's voice ask.

"It's my baggage, and I don't want you to get involved in it!" Roger replied angrily.

"That's a shame Roger, because I already am! The moment you asked me who I was, I already became a part of your life. I want to know," Peyton said, her voice changing from a loud angry tone, to a very soft one, like the waves of the sea.

"I can't! It's my burden to carry, Peyton, not yours." Roger answered his voice beating against hers like the shores by the sea.

"Mimi was my friend too. She blew what I figure was a week of her earnings just to buy me these boots. She gave a shit about me. And I'm giving a shit about you!"

"I never asked you to."

"I don't have a lot of baggage Roger. I was only looking for someone to share my empty life with. Then you played the song..."

"You don't want baggage, and I don't want to hurt myself again, Peyton. And I don't want to hurt you either."

A pause came over the two. They were just looking at each other with quiet, pensive faces, not wanting the other to know what they were thinking. Then Roger noticed that since she had gotten up and put on her new boots, Peyton hadn't walked a single step, whereas Roger had practically walked his entire crap hole of a room just that morning.

"Are you okay?" Roger asked, reaching a hand out for Peyton, who only nodded.

"I'm fine. Roger, all I want is to be with you. Do you think you can respect that?" she asked him, crossing her arms over her chest, sounding exhausted form just standing.

"Do you think you can handle all the baggage I carry? And what about Mimi? I can't just let her go," Roger reasoned with her, walking over to where she was standing, "you need a hand walking to the living room?"

Peyton just shrugged him off, still a bit upset.

"At least take off your boots," Roger told her. Peyton shook her head firmly.

"Mimi would have wanted me to wear these," she said to him, as if trying to make a point to the man who refused to say anything to her, "and besides, I fell in love with my boots the moment I opened the box so ceremoniously."

Roger sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Now was not exactly the best time for Peyton to be making a point to him. And how dare she compare his love for Mimi for the boots she had received from her? It wasn't the same, not even by a little bit. But he wasn't going to get mad at her. He didn't want to.

"Are you...crying?" Roger asked her, almost surprised.

"Roger, I miss Mimi too. Everyone does. But that doesn't mean that you have to throw everything away," Peyton told him softly, growing tired of this. But she had no intention of giving up. Not on Roger.

"Take off your boots," Roger said firmly, "and walk."

"Roger, I-" Peyton began, but he interrupted her.

"Please."

So she relented, slowly taking the boots off her aching and sore feet, moaning in pain as she did so. Taking Roger's hand, he helped her walk to the door, when she stopped and looked at him, trying to take in his dirty blonde hair and caring eyes. When Roger cast his eyes on her, she at once looked away.

"What's wrong?" He asked her. She had a small smile on her face.

"Nothing."

The two fell in silence as Roger helped her over to the living room, where Collins and Joanne were proudly serving breakfast. The two acted as if their earlier conversation had never taken place, sitting as far away from each other as they could. Leaving Maureen on the couch, Peyton and Joanne shared the squashy and dusty armchair, while Collins, Mark and Roger shared the metal table in the kitchen. Joanne crossed her legs while Peyton's dangled over the armrests, balancing her plate on her lap.

"I love eggs," Mark was saying, scarfing up his own plate. Roger noticed Peyton smiling at Mark acting like a kid over his eggs.

"You want mine? I'm not that hungry," she told Mark, handing him hers. He was about to accept it when Roger intervened, making the filmmaker give his eggs back to the girl who slept in his room last night.

"Roger, I don't want eggs, okay?!" Peyton asked angrily, turning to Joanne, "Joanne, can you please tell Roger I don't want eggs."

"Don't drag me into this," Joanne said, taking a bite off her food. Peyton groaned.

"Boy, if she don't want to eat no eggs, don't make her eat 'em," Collins told Roger, who backed down.

"Thanks Collins," Peyton grumbled, handing her eggs to Mark and grabbed an apple to eat instead. She and Roger stared at each other in silence. Then Roger stared at her blistered feet. She stared at his gorgeous eyes and looked away and once again. Roger was still staring at her feet.

"Peyton, what happened to your feet?" Maureen asked Peyton as she poked an eye out form under the ice pack.

"First boots ever, go back under that ice pack," Peyton told her, finishing off her apple and squirming in the seat with Joanne to lay her feet on the floor and attempted to stand. She stumbled. Roger helped her at once.

"Roger, let go of me," she said sounding a little tired. She was getting a headache, and all Peyton wanted to do was go back to bed.

"Will you just shut up and let me help you to your place?" Roger said, picking her up like he did last night. Peyton didn't object and let Roger bring her downstairs to her own place, where he put her on the lumpy old couch. Roger was just about to leave when Peyton called out his name. Roger turned and looked at her, waiting for what she wanted to say.

"Nothing you can tell me will make me regret wanting to be with you."

Then she rolled over, to go to sleep, when she heard Roger's footsteps striding across the room. He sat on the floor near to Peyton's head and this time, he called her name. She rolled over to look at the man who she was very slowly falling for. He was just looking at her, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Can I trust you?" he asked her.

"Always."

o0o0o0o0o0

The sun was high in the sky one lazy afternoon at the loft. There was nothing to do in their own apartment, so Maureen and Joanne had come over. Collins was reading an old, tattered philosophy book on the couch. Mark seemed to have an idea on a film, because he was writing frantically in a small notebook. Joanne was reviewing a case as Maureen was telling her about a certain something or other that she saw in a mall.

"Pookie that dress was so gorgeous, and it was on sale too! Imagine a desert in Arabia and that dress-"

"Maureen, I'm working. I really don't want to hear about the dress."

"God, you're boring! Always work, work, stupid lawyer work! When are you ever going to realize, JOANNE, that-"

Suddenly, the sliding door flew open, causing everyone to jump. Then, it revealed Roger and Peyton by the doorway, happily making out with each other until Maureen shrieked in delight upon seeing them. This caused Roger and Peyton to break apart, realizing that the others were still there. Peyton blushed and excused herself, giggling as she went back downstairs. Roger looked at his friends sheepishly.

"She...uh...forgot her boots," he said, laughing nervously.

Obviously embarrassed, Roger retreated to his room as the others laughed. Finally, Roger smiled. Finally, he was happy again. Everyone was laughing, except for Joanne, who had a stern look on her face. She followed Roger into his room and closed the door behind her.

"What are you doing?" she asked her friend almost angrily as Roger brought out his guitar. Suddenly, he was full of music; he could not just sit down and relax. He looked at Joanne.

"I'm taking a leap. Walking through fire," he replied with a smile. But Joanne didn't smile back.

"Have you guys had sex yet?" Joanne asked, straight to the point as always.

"No! Joanne, and I don't think you have a right to know," Roger answered, a little annoyed and curious at where this conversation with Joanne was going.

"I think I do. Are you aware that she doesn't have HIV?" Joanne asked, using something her friends (and Maureen) always referred to as her 'lawyer voice', "and is she aware that you do?"

"Sex isn't going to be the only thing that we're going to do," Roger pointed out, hoping Joanne would just drop the issue.

"That's not the point, Roger. She has the right to know. She has to know just how much baggage you have so she can decide whether or not she really wants to carry it."

"She already knows. I told her. I wouldn't have kissed her if I didn't know," Roger snapped at her. He was getting angry, he knew it. Joanne had no right to say what she just did, even though she was his friend. And how did she know Peyton didn't have HIV, anyway?

"Why are you so worried, Joanne?" Roger asked her.

"Because Roger, I used to love her, and she loved me back. I have a responsibility to protect her," Joanne said, turning back and walking away, pausing at the door to say just one last thing.

"But believe me; I AM happy for the two of you. You both deserve to be happy."

Roger looked up at the lawyer and gave her a small smile, which she returned before going back to the living room.

o0o0o0o0o

One hot and lazy Sunday afternoon, Mark and Roger were alone in the apartment. Collins had gotten a job tutoring students at the university. It was a boring job, but hey, it was something. Mark was adjusting something in his camera on the armchair, as Roger lounged in the duct-tape couch, absently playing his beloved guitar and waiting for that right note to hit. Things had gotten pretty boring, and Mark started filming again.

"Zoom in on Roger Davies, my roommate. The love of his life Mimi died last year, and we thought he would be isolated from society forever-"

"Mark-"

"Becoming the lazy ass like he was when April died a few more years ago, like a loser without any hope-"

"Mark," Roger said with a small smile as he put down his guitar.

"But he's happier now with his new girlfriend, Peyton the artist at the floor below Mimi's. And now, I assume he's writing another song, which could take him yet another year-"

"Mark, stop! " Roger said, catching his best friend's attention, "I'm not writing Peyton a song. I couldn't. I know I wrote "Your Eyes" for Mimi, but that's just for Mimi and nobody else. Now turn off that camera."

Knowing that he had just gotten a deep and heartfelt Roger confession on tape, Mark decided to put away the camera. Then Peyton came in after the secret knock she and Roger (mostly Peyton, and Maureen because she was there too) had devised just last week. She and Roger have been officially together for about two months now, and she couldn't be happier. She was drawing again, her mind exploding with the ideas Roger had inspired within her through his songs or the stories his little Bohemian 'family' had told her over the past two weeks. Today, she entered the loft with a smile, saying hello to Mark before sitting next to Roger on the couch and greeting him with a kiss, something Roger happily obliged to. They seemed to forget that Mark was there, so he brought out his camera and started filming the two quietly, whispering in a low voice.

"Pan in on Roger and his new girlfriend, Peyton, happily making out on the couch with me watching."

Apparently, Roger had heard Mark whispering to his camera. He pulled himself away from Peyton's lips and turned to his friend. He didn't look too mad, and Peyton was giggling.

"Cohen! What did I tell you about that camera? Put it away!"

"Yes, mommy," Mark said teasingly, putting the said camera away and standing up to grab his scarf, "I'm going out. You kids had better be behaved while I'm gone."

"Yes, daddy," Peyton and Roger said simultaneously, and Peyton laughed into Roger's chest as he laughed. Then Mark was out, and Roger and Peyton were alone.

"So, uh," said Peyton, "what were we doing?"

Roger had that look on his face. That mischievous grin that Peyton had grown to love. The grin that had always vanished when he realized what the intimacy level started getting high. She knew he was scared to give her HIV, but she wanted him to know that she didn't really care. Roger, in turn, was not only scared, he was hesitant and generally unsure. He was scared because he didn't want her to live like he and Mimi did, a life with absolutely no future at all. He was scared because he didn't want to risk her dying before he did. He couldn't risk anyone dying on him again. He was hesitant because of Mimi. Roger was afraid he would miss her too much and end up hurting Peyton. Roger didn't want her hurt. Roger didn't want her to be scared.

They moved to Roger's room, with Peyton on top of Roger, their tongues and mouths dancing to a seemingly invisible rhythm. They were thoroughly enjoying themselves when Peyton's hands slipped to the waistband of Roger's old jeans, Her face giving him a grin. Peyton's eyes were sparkling in such a way that made Roger want to get lost in them. They were deep and dark brown, twinkling at him, calling him to come to her. Roger's heart seemed to freeze in his chest. He got scared.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Peyton asked, seeing the look on his face. When he didn't answer, she sighed and flopped to the bed next to Roger, kissing him on the cheek to let him know that she wasn't mad. Then she sighed and stared up at the ceiling, a little tired. Then, she wasn't really sure, but she heard Roger sit up. Then he started to sing, softly, but loud enough for Peyton to hear him clearly.

_"I like it just like this_

_But sometimes I feel like_

_Giving you more than just a kiss_

_But baby it's wrong_

_Baby it's not my kind of game_

_If I give it to you now_

_Our love will never be the same_

_It won't be long_

_We gotta play our love just right_

_I know you know the time will come_

_But baby for tonight_

_Let's take it slow_

_Anywhere you wanna go_

_Baby for you I'll lay it all on the line_

_You ougtha know_

_Babe, I ain't got nowhere to go_

_I'll give it to you, only to you_

_We gotta take it real slow."_

Peyton sat up, her legs firmly placed on the lumpy old bed next to Roger. Smiling to herself, she kissed Roger on the cheek again. Then, still barefoot, Peyton walked around Roger's room, as if looking for something among the messy mix of his things

and Mimi's. Peyton never did mind the fact that Mimi's clothes were still in his room which is one of the things Roger loved about her. She knew and accepted the fact that there had been other women in his life, women that he loved and continued to love to this

day and remembering them in ways that sometimes Peyton's didn't understand. This was one of the reasons why Roger was so apprehensive with her the first time she made known of her attraction to him. He was scared that he would run out of love and they

would only end up burning each other and falling out. Then Peyton told him something that had struck him so much that he knew he would never forget it.

"The great thing about love is that you never run out of it. You can just keep making more."

To anyone else, it would have sounded like something you would tell a six year old, but to Roger, it meant a lot, more than Peyton would ever know.

Now, as he watched her looking through his stuff for something she must have left behind, Roger got curious.

"What are you looking for?" he asked. Peyton looked up form her bent position on the floor and just shrugged.

"Oh…you know...nothing much."

"You got inspired to draw again?"

"It just happens, Roger. I know I left my notebook somewhere here," Peyton muttered, looking around, ignoring Roger as he crossed the room to retrieve something in his closet. She saw him bring out his guitar and went back to her search. She didn't see him

bring out her notebook until he gave it to her.

"Where did you find this?" Peyton asked curiously, pretty sure that she had looked everywhere for it.

"I put it next to my guitar when I saw you left it here," he explained, "I didn't open it, don't worry."

Thank God, Peyton though to herself, as she settled on the bed with a pen she had found in her pocket. Roger knew that she didn't like it when people looked through her notebook without permission. The thing was practically her diary, and she was

thankful that Roger respected her privacy. Peyton browsed though her previous works before she started to draw quietly. Roger looked at her for a second before he sat by his window and played absently, they way he had been for the past to months now.

Sometimes they just liked to enjoy the silence of their craft together. Sometimes Roger let Peyton hear a few of the song he had started, and sometimes Peyton showed him her latest sketches.

Today, as they just bummed around together, Roger couldn't see Peyton working on her newest drawing. She had drawn a man kissing a woman with a certain passion on the bed, but behind them, there loomed this shadow, a dark shadow placing his

hand on the man's shoulder. If Roger had seen that drawing, he might have gotten mad at her. If he had seen the drawing before that, he would get even madder than that because in the previous page, Peyton had sketched a musician calling an artist "Mimi".

This was how she felt, and she didn't want Roger to know. She didn't want him to get mad at her. Though Peyton knew very well that she was nothing like Mimi or April for that matter, she still had that fear of being compared to them in Roger's mind. Did he not

want to have sex with her because she didn't have HIV? Then why did he agree to be with her in the first place? Peyton knew very well that it was a factor, but to her, it didn't really matter. She would rather contract HIV than not be with Roger. Though it sounded

scary and even dangerous, she knew it had been inevitable. She had fallen in love with the brooding rock star, and she knew there was no turning away from that.

"Anything on your mind?" Roger asked Peyton, snapping her out of her train of thought. Sometimes she just drifted away, and Roger had to smile when he brought her back to reality.

"No," Peyton said bluntly, "nothing."

"Come on, Peyton. You have that look," Roger told her, with a smile.

"I have a look?"

"Of course you do. Now tell me what's bothering you."

There was a pause. Peyton was either thinking about how to say this or completely ignoring Roger now.

"I...uhm...was thinking of Mimi. I've been thinking about her a lot lately," she confessed to him, closing her notebook and turning to her boyfriend by the windowsill, "Lately being the past week."

Roger gave her a look, which prompted her to keep talking. This posed a problem because Peyton wasn't very articulate when it came to her feelings, because she wasn't really sure what to make of what she was feeling. She couldn't look at Roger, and he didn't like it that she couldn't look at him.

"Sometimes I feel like you're holding back on me because you still feel that it would be wrong to her. Other times I feel like you're holding back because I might get HIV, and I get that. But Roger, when do we stop taking it slow? You don't know how much I want to hold you right now. How much I don't care that I get HIV. My life wasn't worth shit until you played that song. And I'm pretty sure you know that."

Another pause and still, Peyton couldn't look Roger in the eye.

I have to look at him; she thought to herself, I have to look at him.

She turned her head just in time to capture Roger's lips in a very passionate kiss. He laid her head on the bed, and this time, it was his turn to take the waistband of Peyton's jeans. There was a smile on Peyton's face as Roger continued to kiss her, her hands fumbling to rid him of his shirt.

End Chapter

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	4. Chapter 4

It's still the same story, just a different title. Last Chapter!

Standard disclaimers apply. Read and review please!

Song belongs to Jack's Mannequin.

I'm With You

Chapter Four

About a week later, he stood by her grave, looking at the tombstone like he was laying his eyes at a loving face. The autumn was perfect. Leaves of gold and orange filled the entire graveyard, making it look like everything was on a fiery haven. The breeze was cool, blowing a few strands of stray dirty blonde hair on Roger's face. He looked at Mimi's grave, silently communicating with her like he did more often than he had used to. Sometimes, if the day was particularly special, Roger would walk over to the other side of the cemetery, to visit April. How could he ever forget April?

Looking at the grave one more time, Roger knelt and ran his fingers over Mimi's name, kissing his hand and placing it tenderly on the gravestone.

"I miss you, babe," he said softly before turning to leave. Roger was just about to go when he saw someone familiar standing by Angel's grave, which wasn't that far from Mimi's. Then he went over to the visitor, pausing to listen as he talked.

"You know Roger's got a new girlfriend? Yeah, he's pretty happy where he is. Makes me kind of jealous, you know?"

Mark sighed, his shoulders heaving.

"I hate being alone. And you know that, right, Angel? Yeah. I have to go. Say hi to Mimi for me?"

Then Mark turned and saw Roger leaning at the nearby tree. He couldn't read the look on his friend's face. Mark wasn't sure if Roger was being understanding, or if he was laughing,

"I didn't know you went here," Roger only said to Mark.

"Yeah, well, I do. Sometimes Collins comes with me and we visit Mimi too," Mark pointed out, but after that, they couldn't think of anything more to say. Really, there wasn't much to talk about there. They just walked home together, both quiet until Mark opened up the conversation to a new topic.

"So...uh...how are you and Peyton?" Mark asked Roger, and he looked at his friend, as if debating whether or not he should tell Mark the reason why he had felt the urge to visit Mimi today.

"I made her take her HIV test at the free clinic this morning," Roger finally said.

"Oh," Mark could only say as they turned the corner, "when did they say the results were coming in?"

"In two weeks," Roger answered, "the same day as our six month anniversary."

Mark was a bit surprised that Roger knew that. He didn't think he would know.

"Are you okay?" Mark asked Roger, really wanting to know. Roger shrugged.

"I don't really know. She'll be happy when it's positive, and I'll be happy when it's negative, I guess."

"You think she wants to have HIV?"

"She wants to for my sake. But for her sake, I don't want her to have to go through the pain of it all. The only reason she finally took the test was because I told her I wanted to know. And I do want to know. I want to know if I should regret what we did or not."

"Makes you wish Mimi was still here, right?" Mark asked, the words slipping out before he could stop himself. Roger shot him an angry look.

"Thanks for the support," he muttered before stalking away from the filmmaker, who mentally kicked himself.

That was stupid Cohen. Really stupid.

o0o0o0

Roger didn't go to the loft that night, out of annoyance at Mark. He was already feeling confused as of now, and Mark had to say what he just did. So, without any explanation as to why, Roger stayed over at Peyton's place, attempting to tune a guitar Peyton had found at the back of her closet a few days ago. Across him, Peyton was sitting with her sketchpad on her lap, a pencil in hand as she sketched her boyfriend tuning the guitar. Ray Charles was playing at the old radio in the living room.

"Roger, could you hold still? I'm trying to draw you," she told him, finishing up his left arm.

"How can I sit still? You're interrupting the whole tuning process over here," Roger said teasingly, playing a chord. "Nope, that wasn't right..."

After a few minutes, Peyton started to strike up a conversation with Roger, trying to ignore the headache she was getting out of the blue. She was experiencing them more often than not, which was one of the reasons why she allowed Roger to drag her to the free clinic for the HIV test. From the outside, she looked so calm and collected about it, but really, she was terrified. HIV would mean uncertainty. Pain. Death. She would lose any notion of security she had. She would be isolated from the world and given a label. Peyton wanted to share this with Roger, but didn't want him to give her an 'I told you so' speech.

But what was so wrong about the test being positive? Yes, her whole world would change, but Roger would be there. Joanne and Maureen would be there. Hell, even Collins and Mark would be there with her. She would start to live her life without any regrets, like Mimi had. She wouldn't have that guilty feeling that she was betraying herself when she was with Roger anymore. She would be able to nurse his wounds when he got hurt.

And maybe, just maybe, Roger would finally allow himself to fall in love with her.

After a few minutes of sketching, Roger had finally tuned her old guitar and started playing, and was now contenting himself with singing to her as she drew. Peyton giggled. She loved the sound of Roger's voice. When he sang, it always seemed like he sang from his heart, like he really meant what he was singing, even when he was singing about something nonsensical like bathtubs or ...ovens.

"I visited Mimi today," he informed her after his singing was done, "I told her about out trip to the free clinic."

Peyton didn't look up from her work, but she smiled and said, "I wonder what she said about that?"

Roger gave a light laugh. Then he looked at Peyton and realized something.

"You look a lot like Mimi. You remind me of her."

Then he resumed his guitar playing, unaware that Peyton had completely frozen. Wasn't this the exact thing she was fearing? That Roger would think her as a replacement for Mimi? That Roger had only agreed to be with her for the past five and a half months because she reminded him of Mimi? Nothing more than that?

"Is that what you think of me? A...replacement for Mimi? Just something to occupy your time until the fuckin' virus spreading through your veins finally kills you?!" Peyton asked angrily, seemingly exploding. Roger looked up to her in surprise, even a little angry at the accusation. He couldn't say anything to her. Words just ceased to exist.

"Roger! Is that what you think?" Peyton asked him. _Please tell me it isn't._

_Is it?_ Roger thought, finding himself still unable to answer.

_Why is he hesitating?_ Peyton thought_, I was right, wasn't I? Roger...he...he'll never really want me until I become exactly like Mimi. His Mimi._

_Say something_! Roger thought to himself, _say anything to make her feel better_!

"I'm leaving the house for awhile," she said, putting on a black coat, "you'd better not be here when I get back. God Roger. I can't believe I thought that..."

She never finished the rest of her sentence as she stormed out of her loft, leaving Roger on the couch, dumbstruck.

That was stupid, Davies. Really stupid.

o0o0o0o

Days later, Peyton still wasn't talking to Roger, and Roger refused to make the first move at reconciliation. Both of them were as stubborn as hell, and it seemed like nothing would make them talk to each other. Upon finding out of the argument, Maureen and Joanne had swooped in and started taking Peyton out every night, to find out what had happened between them and to keep her mind off Roger for awhile. Collins and Mark had already tried to talk to Roger, but he seemed almost unfazed at the fact that Peyton wasn't around. He barely spoke, just keeping to himself and his guitar. Sometimes, when Mark or maybe even Collins would prod him to talk, he would, but only in a way that would make him lash out in rage.

But still, deep inside, Peyton was in love with Roger. She missed him terribly, but she hated the feeling of being just a temporary replacement to Mimi. She would forgive him in a heartbeat- as long as he apologized. Peyton dared not tell this to anyone. She didn't want Roger to know how she was feeling towards him. So, one day, as she and Joanne were walking to pick up Maureen at the Life Cafe, Peyton spied an ad at the Cat Scratch Club, looking for dancers. She actually stopped walking just to read the sign. Joanne walked over to her and saw her reading the sign.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked Peyton as she grabbed the ad and started to enter the club. Peyton looked back at Joanne.

"If he wants Mimi, then...I'll give him Mimi."

Joanne followed her inside, almost not believing what she was hearing. Since when was Peyton like this? She would never do something this stupid. Joanne grabbed Peyton by the arm.

"Stop," she said, "don't be stupid."

"When was the last time you did something Maureen wanted? This is the same thing, Joanne," Peyton tried to explain; "You don't think I'm a bad dancer, do you?"

She added that last question as a joke, so Joanne would lighten up, but she didn't. Her face turned even harder.

"That's not the point."

"And don't you think it's about time that I got a job with good pay?"

"This isn't a job, Peyton! You know what Mimi was like! I want you to think about what you're doing, throwing all your life away for the guy you've been fucking for the past four months."

"Jo. Stop. I'm not just fucking Roger."

"You're in love with him, aren't you? That's why you're doing this, so he could love you back?"

"Jo-"

"Peyton, it doesn't always work that way. Roger will love you whether or not you're like Mimi. You don't have to be that girl."

"No, Jo! Stop giving me lawyer talk. I can't stop missing him. I need Roger. I need him to love me then maybe, I won't be so scared of the HIV test results anymore. Maybe I can die knowing that at one point of my life, I wasn't alone. So please, let me do this."

There was a look in her eyes that told Joanne that there was really nothing she could say that would stop Peyton from going onstage. So she let her walk into the manager's room, clutching the flyer in her hand. Joanne could only wait patiently outside. Once she and Peyton were back outside, neither spoke any more. Peyton would be coming back in two days to start her new job as a dancer in the Cat Scratch Club.

o0o0o0

In the loft, about another week later, Roger was getting a bit frustrated to the point of getting angry again. Where was Peyton? At first, he had waited for her to come up to him and make a move, but after realizing that it was he who had to say something, Roger had wanted to talk to Peyton. But the problem was, he had not been able to see her for the past week. She was hardly ever at home, and she never answered her phone. Although sometimes he caught glimpses of her, Roger had never been actually able to talk to Peyton in awhile, which worried him a little. The truth was, Roger missed his girlfriend. He missed seeing her and hearing her laugh. He missed talking to her about the future and about life. About regret and all the baggage they now shared. Roger longed to resolve this and just lay next to her. She always made him feel safe, like he was home. He wanted to know what was going on with her. Was she trying to break up with him? Was something going on? Something she wasn't telling him? Roger couldn't stand the fact that he wasn't able to talk, see or even hold her. He wanted to talk to her about Mimi. Why did it always come back to Mimi?

"Where are you now?

As I'm swimming through the stereo, I'm writing you a symphony of sound.

Where are you now?

As I rearrange the songs again, I swear to god this mix could take the sun,

But it was you I've been thinking of."

o0o0o0

On her way home from dancing the night away and alluring all the men at the Cat Scratch Club, Peyton started walking back to her flat with a fever. She felt cold, even though she was already wearing more clothes than she normally would. She was getting dizzy, and she knew she really had to get back to the loft to rest. Eventually, she got so dizzy that she could barely stand, but the loft was already in her line of vision. The farthest she had gone was at a phone booth right across the loft. She sat there, leaning against the dirty phone booth, not at all caring. At the back of her mind, she knew that she could have made the flight up the stairs if she had the energy, but she just didn't. She was dead tired, and all she could think about was having Roger carry her to her room like he had many times before. It sounded lame, but to her, it made a whole lot of sense. She always remembered that time she and Roger were going back to the apartment from Joanne's birthday, when they were singing "Moonriver" at the top of their lungs. She loved it when Roger gave in to her strange whims, like the time she wanted to share cotton candy with him; they did, even though she knew he hated the stuff. Or the time she put on music and just started to dance. Roger had been reluctant, but eventually, he was laughing along with her as the danced to Collins' old Jazz tapes. Peyton remembered the time when Roger had gotten sick, and he had asked her to let him lay in his arms. He was cold and shaking, and Peyton had been so scared.

"Can you...s-sing for me?" Roger had asked her weakly, huddling himself closer into Peyton's embraced. He had a fever but he refused to sleep.

"Roger, you know I-"

"Please. Moonriver. I...I need..."

And Peyton had started singing. Not well, but she was singing anyway. And Roger finally fell asleep, his fever breaking the next day. Now, as she sat in that phone booth, Peyton could only wish it wasn't all a lie. She was crying now, hugging her legs and letting the tears she had kept to herself finally fall down her flushed cheeks.

_Tell me it wasn't a lie. Tell me you wanted me. Tell me you love me. _

"Girl is everything alright?" asked a somewhat familiar voice. Peyton looked up. It was Collins. Good, sweet and philosophical Collins. She didn't say anything, but she kept on crying. Collins sat next to her and gave her a hug. He felt her body heating up. She was sick. He saw that she was wearing nothing more than leather and fishnets under her black trench coat.

"Where have you been all week?"

"At work. I have a job," Peyton managed to say as a massive headache set in. She moaned softly.

"Dancing at the Cat Scratch Club is not a job," Collins pointed out, and Peyton looked at him.

"Did Joanne-"

"I've heard things. I can see what you're wearing. Didn't take much to figure it out. Is this kind of job okay by Roger?"

"He doesn't know, and I doubt he even cares," Peyton said sadly, pulling her coat tighter around her, "Roger doesn't care. All he wants is Mimi."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I asked."

Collins sighed, leaning his head back on the phone booth, closing his eyes for a moment. The setting reminded him of Angel. Everything reminded him of her. His Angel. They had crossed paths not to far from this phone booth. She had been playing her drums. She had taken care of him. She loved him, and he never stopped loving her.

"I'll cover you..."

The wind seemed to be whispering again, and Collins had to smile a little before turning his attention back to the sick girl beside him as she was crying. He placed his hand over her forehead.

"You're getting sick," he said, "why don't you come up to the loft?"

"Too tired," she only replied, her eyes fluttering closed. Everything she had been trying to keep inside was slipping out with each tear that spilled form her eyes.

"Are you crying because of Roger?" Collins asked curiously.

"Him and every thing else. I've got a lot of baggage, his and mine. I think I'm starting to strain under the weight..."

Collins stood up, and picked Peyton up, surprised to find her thinner and lighter than he had expected. She was burning up.

"Tell me on the way upstairs. I'll cover you for now."

Then Peyton broke. She felt like the dam had finally burst, and she started talking to Collins. She told him about her fears of her HIV test results, her anger and frustration at Roger, her regrets, her pain, her attempt at becoming Mimi until eventually, she confessed to him her love for Roger. Even to her it sounded a little pathetic now, but it was so true. She loved him. She could be dying because of him, and she didn't regret it. Collins seemed to understand, listening quietly as he carried her up the steps of the apartment building, purposefully going to the floor above Peyton's loft. The door was open, and Collins put her in Mimi's bed.

"Collins, this isn't my place, I-"

"If you want to be Mimi, then you can be her. But I want you to know that she did things that even she was not proud of, things that I'm sure even SHE doesn't want you to do," Collins pointed out to her, pulling the covers to Peyton's shoulders like a father would tuck in a child. Then he disappeared for a moment, coming back with a cold compress to place over Peyton's forehead.

"Roger loved Mimi and her imperfect life, and all the things she did," Peyton told him.

"Roger loved Mimi. He never loved the things she did, he accepted it," Collins answered, sitting by her on the bed.

"Roger loves Mimi. He'll never love me. Stupid me."

"You're not stupid," Collins said with a smile, "you're in love with a rock star. Now you get your sleep. I'll get Mark to check on you."

Without any more protest, Peyton closed her eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep. Once she was asleep, Collins slowly locked the door and went back to the loft using the fire escape. Mark was in the living room with Roger, editing something in the corner as Roger read one of the books Peyton had lent Collins. Both looked up at the sight of their roommate entering through the fire escape.

"You know there's a door right there..." Mark said, turning his head towards their door, as if making sure that the door was still there. Collins barely flinched. He didn't look to happy.

"Tomorrow night," he said, talking to Roger, "You and me. We're going to the Cat Scratch Club."

"What? Why? And why isn't Mark coming with us?" Roger asked curiously. Collins' face remained the same.

"I'm fucking serious. Mark, I need you to talk to you."

"Collins, what's going on?" Roger asked, confused at what was going on. He didn't want to go to the Cat Scratch. He didn't need to go.

"Just shut up Roger."

Collins was angry. Angry at Roger for bringing this on her. She was slowly killing herself because of Roger. Because she thought all he wanted was Mimi. And Roger couldn't say otherwise. It was cruel and unfair.

Mimi, Angel...do you guys think I'm doing the right thing?

o0o0o0o

By the next night, Roger and Collins were inside the Cat Scratch Club, which was practically buzzing with people. The two made their way to the front, Collins not saying much to Roger, who looked a little uncomfortable to be there. Lights and loud music were flashing in their faces as they sat in one of the chairs. A few of the dancers were already onstage, doing their routine.

"Collins, what the hell are we doing here?!" Roger yelled to his friend, who only looked back at him before answering,

"You'll see in a minute!"

Roger really had no idea why he was here or why Collins was making him come. He felt a little strange sitting in the club Mimi used to dance in. The club where she danced for other men. He had seen her dance here, yes, but not after he got together with him. She didn't want him to see her dance. Mimi knew it would only hurt him, but she never gave it up. She loved dancing too much.

Suddenly, the music changed, and the lights in the audience dimmed, making all the men in the house turn their attention to the stage, where all the light had concentrated on three girls, each of them wearing their own version of the miniskirt, the leather boots and the tops that were small and skimpy enough to show a good amount of midriff and cleavage.

The men only seemed to get wilder as they started to dace, their hips gyrating, dipping and twisting perfectly to the music in an enticing dance. Even Roger was caught in their spell. Collins face remained quiet. The music had remained voiceless until the lights concentrated on something at the top of the stairs.

There was a lurch and a jump in Roger's heart and stomach when he saw who was at the top of the stairs. She looked...amazing. She was dressed in a leather halter that left little to the imagination. Her sinfully short black skirt was even more alluring, especially the electric blue sash she had tied around her bare waist. Then there were the tall, leather boots and the fishnet stockings. Her straight black hair was let wild in loose curls. She was smiling seductively at the audience, a smile that Roger had always that was for him alone. Then she started moving her hips, her legs, and her body. A teasing and upbeat song was playing over the sound system, and all the men were screaming for her.

They were all screaming for Peyton. Screaming for her as she dared mover her hips closer to them, as she smiled and blew kisses at them. They called for her as she spun and twisted her body in ways Roger never thought she could. Money piled at her feet when she spun around the pole, even more when she interacted with the three other dancers.

As he looked up at her dancing, Roger could feel his heart drop. She looked exactly like Mimi. Feverish, alive at the passion of entrancing strangers with a flick of the hip. But her eyes. Roger could clearly see that her eyes were blank. Like Peyton's body was there, but she herself wasn't. Where was the artist that had come to his loft five months ago? Where was the drunken girl at Joanne's party? Where...where was the woman he was falling in love with?

Roger couldn't take any more of this. He left the club angrily, slamming the door behind him. He paced angrily in the sidewalk, unable to control his feelings. He was angry; he was confused and maybe even scared. Why was Peyton doing this? Collins came up behind him, and Roger couldn't get the image out of his head. The crowd roaring for his girlfriend as she teased them with the body that Roger thought was only his. And there were the eyes. Those haunted, sad brown eyes. Like a fire doused with water.

"Collins...why?" Roger could only ask as he paced in the sidewalk, "Why is she doing this? She's killing herself!"

"Don't you get it, man? She's killing herself to be the woman you long for."

"What?"

"You wanted Mimi, so she wants to BE Mimi. For you."

"That's insane! I never asked Peyton to be-"

Is that what you think of me? A...replacement for Mimi? Roger had never answered the question. He was never given the chance. He fell silent. He did this to her. He was doing this to her. He looked at Collins, who seemed to know what he was thinking. Roger couldn't seem to think of anything to say.

"Is...Is she using-" he managed to stutter. Collins shook his head.

"No. She was pretty damn close to using drugs, though."

"God. I'm such an ass. I did this to her! She doesn't deserve this! She doesn't deserve it. It's my fault. Damn it!" Roger said angrily, walking away from the club, knowing there was no other reason for him to stay any longer. Collins watched him as he left, no idea what Roger was going to do. He sighed and leaned on the wall beside the door, smoking a joint as he waited for the show to finish. He had promised to help Peyton home tonight.

o0o0o0o0o

After she waved goodnight to Collins, Peyton made her way to her loft after a tiring shift at work. She was still getting used to wearing boots everyday and dancing in heels. But it all paid off. She earned enough tips tonight to buy her and the guys a decent Thanksgiving meal. The idea of turkey made Peyton smile a little. Her back was killing her.

"All I'm going to do now is sleep," she muttered to herself, opening her door with a flourish. Her gaze fell on the one waiting for her. He wasn't smiling. But he wasn't angry. What was he doing here? Why?

"Roger," Peyton said, "I don't-"

Without another word, he strode across the room and pulled her into a searing, mind-blowing kiss. A kiss he had wanted to give her for a week now. Finally, he had her in his arms. Finally, he was holding her again. But Peyton wriggled out of his grasp.

"Roger, what are you doing here?" she asked him.

"I saw you," he said, "dancing at the Cat Scratch tonight."

"What were you even doing there? You know what; I don't even want to know. I'm tired, Roger. Please."

" I...I wanted to talk to you. I've wanted to for awhile now."

"There's nothing more you can say," Peyton said, about to walk away, when something he said made her stop, frozen.

"You're wrong, you know. I was wrong. You don't remind me of Mimi. You aren't Mimi. You are in no way a replacement for Mimi."

Roger walked over behind her, not touching her. But he kept on talking.

"You never were a replacement for Mimi. I was wrong in not speaking...not saying anything. I never asked you to be that girl. I love you just the way you are."

Peyton turned around, surprised. What did Roger just say?

"I love you," he said finally, "I admit it. I do. I only hope that-"

"Roger, I love you too," she said, tearing up as Roger pulled her into his arms into another hug. She was crying again, "I never thought you would say that. I thought it would always be Mimi, so I...I tired."

"Shhh. It's okay. You don't have to try anymore. I'm here," Roger assured her, pulling her closer and stroked her hair. They were quiet for a moment before Roger sang softly into her ear.

"Moonriver, wider than a mile...I'm crossing you in style...someday..."

And for the first time, Peyton finally smiled a real smile. She lifted her lips to catch Roger's in a kiss.

o0o0o0o

About a week later, Roger was still reading the same book as Peyton lay on his lap, asleep. They were trying to make today as nonchalant as possible. As uneventful as possible. Even if today marked their sixth month as a couple, the two decided not to celebrate. They really didn't have a reason to, because today was going to be the day that determined Peyton's fate as well as Roger's. Mark was there, trying to act casual, as was Collins. Joanne and Maureen had volunteered to get the letter from the free clinic after Making Maureen swear on Joanne that she wasn't going to open it without Peyton or Roger's approval.

As he adjusted his camera for the big announcement, Mark wasn't sure that to think. It the test was positive, should he be happy for the couple because there would be nothing limiting them from pursuing a more serious relationship? Or should he be sad because Peyton would become a woman marked for death? What if the test was negative? Would he be sad for Roger? Or happy for Peyton? Could love actually be enough for Roger and Peyton as it had become enough for Angel and Collins, and enough for Roger and Mimi? Mark had no idea. But whatever the result was, he was going to be ready with his camera to capture it. It was after all, his art and passion.

Peyton was still sound asleep when Joanne and Maureen came into the loft, Joanne holding the letter. Everyone's eyes gazed at Peyton's sleeping form as she was snuggled onto Roger's lap. Roger suddenly got scared. He didn't want her to live though the pain and struggle of the disease. And the thought that it was he who may have given it to her...

"Should we wake her?" Maureen asked. Roger only placed his hand on her shoulder. Peyton woke up and saw Maureen and Joanne. She took the letter from Joanne without a word. Everything was silent, and tension filled the air as everyone anticipated the results of the life-changing letter. Peyton's hands were shaking as she started to open the letter. But she dropped it, and Maureen gasped. Roger picked it up.

"Peyton?" he only asked her. She shook her head.

"I can't. Roger, please, can you?"

Roger shook his head also. He didn't want to be the one who read this. He passed the unopened envelope to Collins, who waited for Peyton's nod of approval before ripping the envelope open. Peyton grabbed Roger's hand. Joanne did the same with Maureen s Collins looked at the paper. Mark was still filming.

"It's negative," he told them.

Once Collins said this, Peyton thought she was stabbed in the gut. Cold air rushed into her lungs, and she wasn't smiling. She turned to Roger, who seemed to have the same expression on his face. But then he forced a smile on his face and squeezed her hand.

"That's great, isn't it?" he asked her. Peyton shook her head.

"No, Roger, it's not. It's not fair to you," she said, placing her head on his hand, not crying. She was sad. This was unfair. Why did she have to be spared, when it was she who would be fine in getting the disease? It didn't matter to her.

"But it's fair to you," Roger said, kissing the top of her head.

"No!" Peyton yelled, standing up and storming onto Roger's room, closing the door behind her. Roger followed her and stood by the door.

"Peyton," he said, "please open the door!"

When she didn't answer, Roger placed his ear on the door. He could hear her crying on the other side.

"Maybe we should try talking to her," Maureen suggested, and Joanne shook her head.

"This isn't our business anymore," she answered. Mark was still filming. Roger was still banging at the door.

"Peyton, please," he said, "it's just a negative test. Nothing's going to change."

"Yes it is!" Peyton yelled to the door, "I wanted the test to be positive so I can really be with you without any thought or regret. So you wouldn't have any doubts or regrets!"

"But I don't have any!" Roger told her, "Nothing will make me regret everything you and I have been through."

"LIAR!"

"I want the test to be negative because I don't want you to die!"

"I want the test to be positive because I don't want to die without you!"

Roger didn't say anything more, because he didn't know what else to say. He leaned back on the door, sighing. He didn't want to argue with her anymore. He turned to Collins, who still had the test results in his hands.

"Is it really negative?" he asked the man.

"What do you think?"

Roger shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe he wanted it to be positive. He welcomed the idea of dying with Peyton. It wasn't bad. He wanted to live his life with her. He didn't want to regret every kiss and every night they shared together. Maybe on some level he wished the test was positive. But really, it was better that it wasn't. She could still have a chance of a real life, of a better life without him.

I want the test to be positive because I don't want to die without you.

"Give me that," said Joanne, snatching the paper from Collins' hands. Maureen peered behind her for a look.

"Peyton Adams...Collins, the test is positive," Joanne said, looking up at Collins, who nodded. He turned to Roger who looked shocked.

"Now you know how you really feel about it."

Behind Roger, Peyton opened the door, her face matching Roger's. She wasn't laughing, and neither was he.

"So...this means I have... HIV?" she asked them, and Maureen, Joanne and Collins nodded.

"I'm afraid so, honey," said Joanne, handing her the paper. Reading it, Peyton placed her hand over her mouth looking ready to start crying again as she read the results for herself. Roger made his way to her.

"Peyton?" he asked, reaching out to her as she burst out in tears again.

"Roger," she said, letting him hold her in his arms, "I'm scared."

"I'm going to be with you," he said, holding her tighter, "I promise."

Capturing the couple in the warm embrace, Mark felt something tug at his heart. Pain. Sorrow. Pity, he wasn't really sure. But as he watched them and the others, he knew they were all thinking the same thing.

They were all hoping that they would just get through today.

THE END

And that ends the story. Review? Please? Pretty please?


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